


In Retrospect, Maybe We Can We Compromise?

by deedeejadexo



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Science Bros, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-02-03 19:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12754587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deedeejadexo/pseuds/deedeejadexo
Summary: Kind, caring, genius and brilliant physicist Doctor Bruce Banner comes to in the most unlikely of places after his adventures with Thor. And for the life of him, he can not figure out how and why the Other Guy would bring him here, of all places. How long has passed this time? And what's happened on Earth during the last two years during his absence? Where's Steve and all the other Avengers? Something doesn't feel right to Bruce. What isn't Tony telling him?





	1. Where Am I?

A slight chill ran over his bruised body. His left leg twitching minutely as he came around to his senses, brow furrowing and a hand curling reflexively around his head. Memories of alien worlds, Thor, Hela, of Asgardian warriors and Loki perforating his brain like an unleashed tidal wave, an incessant assault in all its technicolor greatness.

Bruce groaned, rolling onto his back then proceeded to cough once, his throat feeling particularly rawer than he was used to when waking up after the Other Guy took the reins for a while. He took a moment to get his bearings. Because that’s what’d happened, right? He’d given in, looked past his own fear of maybe not returning and allowed the Hulk to do his job; help Thor do what was right. Because as such, it was the right thing to do. That’s right, right? That’s what had happened. He’s sure of it. What’d happened past that however, he didn’t know. Still more than a little hazy on that front. All he was certain of right now, this minute, was that he was exhausted, and his body was happy to agree with that conclusion and to lie here forever more.

Bruce heaved a long-suffering sigh, partly out of disdain but also relief. He’d changed back it seemed then, at least there’s that. But how long had passed this time? Fear began to clutch at his chest, his palms beginning to sweat, scrambling for purchase on the flat surface beneath him. Another chill – is that a breeze? – swept over his clammy, naked (but thankfully very much human) form, making him shiver slightly… Oh God, where even was he?

Taking a calming deep breath to abide the rising panic, Bruce slowly opened his eyes. Only one way to find out, right? Blinking wearily through the mixture of natural light and prosthetic brightness, he allowed his irises to adjust and clear through the fog. He took in the grey panelled ceiling, unique in design and construction so much so that he’d recognise it anywhere. The large clear glass lining the corners of his vision only spurred on his suspicions. And with a sinking feeling settling quickly in his stomach, Bruce soon realised exactly where he was.

Sitting up took a bit of difficulty. He centred himself mentally and began to prepare himself to do so physically. By equally distributing his weight, Bruce pushed up through his palms. Immediately sitting up, his vision blurred and spun on its axis, refocussing on the landscape stretching out outside before him. The Chrysler building was situated to his left, office after office light flickering on and Bruce turned his head and watched unthinkingly for a moment. The sun was beginning to set over hordes of buildings in the big apple. He took in the centre of Manhattan, the impressive skyline; it was the end of another busy business day, the sun casting an orange hue throughout the streets of the city, clouds pink, adding to the autumn haze.

Right. Ok. This is good, he could work with this. He was in New York. Back in NYC. After two years. Two years later in fact. Sure.

Exhaling shakily, the doctor ran a quivering hand over his face, doing his best to attempt to scrub away the shock and fatigue he’s sure, should anyone see him right now, would no doubt be there.

Broken glass lay in disarray around him in finely distributed large chunks, surrounding him in a mix of what almost looked like shattered and scattered bags of spilled sand. Making a move to stand, Bruce stumbled in his own awkwardness, feeling like a new-born foal finding its footing and stepped closer towards the city landscape. A large gaping hole stood before him and a very familiar thousand and fifty-foot drop. Well, that would certainly explain the breeze he’d been feeling. And how he got in here.

Bruce twisted around, taking in for the first time in two years, Avengers—née, Stark—tower. It looked much more empty than he remembered, bare. Many filled and packed bags and boxes lingered and clung against the walls. He felt alarm rising again. Was Tony moving? What happened to the Avengers? Were they relocating?

Wringing his hands together more out of nervous habit than actual nerves, he gingerly stepped away from the wall of glass window panels and towards the centre of the vast open room where several couches lay. With chattering teeth, Bruce reached for a fluffy throw over the back of the nearest couch and quickly wrapped it around himself, feeling immensely and immediately warmer for it. Not to mention like he had a semblance of his pride and dignity return along with doing so.

“What happened to the pants I made you?”

Bruce started, adrenaline pumping and eyes widening comically as he spun around on the balls of his feet, muscles protesting. About fifty feet away from him was none other than Tony Stark himself, mischievous smirk cocking coy at the corners of his lips. The Armani suit he wore starting to wrinkle at the edges, telling of the long day he must’ve had. Board meeting stress never sat well with Tony, Bruce recalled.

“At least it’s not raining,” Tony nodded towards the shattered glass panel behind Bruce, at the hole behind it, pulling on his tie and sighing petulantly, a little more audibly than was maybe necessary. Undoubtedly exaggerating his great misfortune of a day’s work. Another thing that didn’t sit well with Tony. “I tell ya, you give ‘em an inch and they’ll want to take a mile. Drink?” He’d sauntered over to the bar (the only thing apart from a few couches, that hadn't been packed up yet), opened the little fridge and after grabbing two whiskey glasses from the shelf beside it, he began to pour himself a drink. Bruce noted vaguely with interest that whatever Tony was pouring was bright green.

The doctor opened his mouth to reply but spluttered, his lack of decision on what to say startling him more so than the engineers apparent lack of surprise to see him or care for his own property in the wake of finding it broken or in this case, smashed.

Tony grabbed both glasses, the green mixture identically filled to the brim in both glasses and walked over to the smaller man. He handed him a glass, grin sliding into place quicker than the striking of a lightning bolt when Banner hesitantly took it, eyes questioning. “What—?"

“Liquid Chlorophyll,” he interjected, beaming, “Pepper’s got me on a juice diet. New health kick of hers apparently. Do people even juice anymore? Like, is that still even a thing?” Tony pondered, tone amused, taking a glug from his glass, lips pursing in response. “Yup, still tastes like ass. It’s a good recovery drink though, hangover cure even, post workout—post _Hulk_ out shake, if you will. Pretend it’s matcha tea or something if you like. Or that chamomile junk you’re so _adorably_ fond of for some reason. You still like that stuff?”

Bruce blinked, tugging the throw around himself a little tighter. _Ignore him, he’s babbling, make your point, Banner. Apologise for… everything._ “Tony,” he breathed, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, eyes embarrassed. “Look, about all this, about your window, barging into the tower after so long out of nowhere, I—”

“You’d come to the wedding, right? I mean, of course you’d be there, why wouldn’t you be? I’d send you an invite if I knew where you’re staying now and where you’ve been the last few years.” If Tony was looking for a distraction, he’d certainly achieved one. Although rhetorical, this was certainly a curve ball and Bruce certainly stopped thinking.

Eyebrows shooting into his hairline, the physicist forgot all about where he was, why he was here and why he was talking. He smiled fondly and slightly sadly when thinking of the couple. Most likely because that was something he could never have, not anymore. “You and Pepper are engaged?”

“Well, not _officially_.” Tony winced in reply, waving his free hand in the air blazingly before stuffing it into his expensive pants pocket, clutching at the ring he’d caught from Happy earlier in the week at the press conference Papper had arranged in hopes of introducing Spider-Man to the world of the Avengers. “I haven’t technically asked her. I’m not exactly what you’d call… romantic.”

“What I’d call romantic or what you’d call romantic?” Bruce teased. Wait, come to think of it… “Didn’t she tell me once that you gave her a giant stuffed bunny as an apology?”

“Details,” Tony dismissed with a scoff hidden behind his glass, which he disguised as taking another sip. “Ok, so I’m not _conventionally_ romantic. What would you do, how’d you do it?”

Bruce shrugged half-heartedly, looking up into imploring brown eyes. Marriage and relationships in general, he tried to steer and stay clear away from these days if he could help it. He honestly hadn’t given it much thought, actively trying not to, in most cases. But now, with Tony standing before him casually talking to him and asking questions as if he didn’t have a naked scientist standing in his tower, or like two long years hadn’t gone by without the two seeing each other, made him feel like maybe this was some sort of test.

He knew his friend could build up walls around himself to protect his mind from the harsh realities of the world that he didn’t want to face sometimes. Was this another one of those times? He certainly didn’t want to fail, if it were a test of sorts. But what was he supposed to say? Since his accident, it wasn’t like he had any experience in this field. And even before his accident, he wasn’t exactly beating away women with a stick. Let alone proposing.

No, between Veronica and Betty (and no, let’s not go there), and then most recently, in Bruce’s mind anyway, whatever had happened between him and Natasha, he wasn’t exactly the poster boy for relationships or extravagant proposals.

Tony was still looking at him expectantly, his beard still as finely groomed and cut in the style he was used to seeing but the dark hair on top of his head slightly longer than the last time he’d seen him. Same old Tony. Same old banter. So, it stands to reason that it should be the same old friendship that they shared between them. He decided to just be honest, shrugging once more, “What’s wrong with the traditional bending of the knee and straight up asking her to marry you?”

Tony furrowed his brow, lips quirking into a sarcastic mock, displeased frown, simultaneously rolling his eyes. “Like that thought hadn’t occurred to me.” He mumbled quietly, then a bit louder, “I dunno Big Guy, it just doesn’t feel special enough for her,” he paused, then smirked, “or outlandish enough for me.”

“Tony, it’s Pepper. She loves you. I’m sure she’d say yes however you end up asking her,” Bruce theorised, watching the man yawn and then nod when he’d finished talking, conceding his point.

“Mmm,”

Bruce watched his friend as he walked back over to the bar, emptying his pockets as he went, dropping change, a few hundred-dollar bills, other company business cards, his sunglasses, cell phone and some keys on top of the counter, before turning back round to him. “ _Or,_ maybe I can dig out a giant bunny again, maybe add a few bears of the cuddly persuasion to go with it, few dozen roses, champagne fountain…”

Bruce exhaled on a chuckle, dropping his chin to shake his head a little. Same old Tony, indeed.

The sun was getting low now, the busy hum of the city streets just about reaching their ears as New York City came alive below them and as did its occupants. Bruce turned to look at the view of the skyline, the noise getting his attention, traffic beeping below and the sound of people talking, scurrying about, into and of the cold. He cringed as he took in the sight of broken glass littering the otherwise peaceful scenery, fiddling deftly with the hem of the fluffy throw around his shoulders.

“Seriously, no more stretchy pants?” He turned back to Tony upon hearing his question, noticing he had moved from his stance by the bar and was now plopping himself down on one of the couches, arms reclining on the backrest, facing Bruce, his now empty glass on the table and trademark grin fixed in place as he focused on Doctor Banner. “What, did Jolly Green not like his wardrobe? Changed his mind? Wants an exchange for something else?”

Bruce bashfully dropped his eyes, followed Stark over to the couch and placed his still full glass onto the table, then rubbed the back of his neck absently, running a hand through his messy curls, standing before him like a kid caught in the act of trouble. “Something like that.”

Tony raised an eyebrow at that, grin turning playful. “Well, you can tell him I worked hard on those, and I’m in big demand these days, suit wise, lots to do, so if Mean Green wants some more, he’ll have to wait his turn. And do you have any idea how hard it is to synthesise and create the design, then construct and manufacture a multimillion dollar fabric to withstand and withhold you and all the stress of your temper tantrums, Brucey-boy?”

“You mean the Other Guy…” was Bruce’s almost automated quiet response, but he smiled nonetheless. His smile faltered however a moment later and he struck the engineer with a sorrowful glance, gesturing to the Hulk shaped hole now in the side of the tower. “I’m really sorry about that, Tony. I don’t know what happened. I don’t even know how I got here.”

“Well, we know how you got _in_ ,” Tony mused, shaking off the physicist apology with a wave of his hand, moving to sit forward, face growing serious. “Don’t sweat it, I’ve already got Friday booking the contractors to come by tomorrow. Hulk smashing a few windows isn’t the worst thing to happen around here. Hell, _I've_ done worse even on good days.” Looking Bruce up and down, as if it’s finally sunk in he’s here, he let his eyes take him in, surprising his mild-mannered guest when he shook his head and laughed.

 _It’s probably nice for him to know you’re alive after nothing for two years,_ Bruce considered, reasoning as he watching the billionaire like he’d blown a fuse.

Tony fiddled with the watch on his wrist, head tilting slightly to the right in inquisitive wonder. “Gotta say though, you know it’s always great to see you, Banner, but you do have me curious. Where did you take off to after Sokovia, where have you been?”

Bruce took a deep breath, moving forward to sit next to enquiring man. _Here goes, one helluva bed time story_ … “I’ve—”

“Ah, no, wait, don’t tell me,” Tony declared, holding up a hand to stop his friend from talking mid breath. “Bahamas, right?” he clicked his fingers, smug, “I hear you can swim with pigs now these days as well as dolphins. Get your chill on at the beach with them. Beach pig parties… Oh, how times have changed.”

Bruce opened his mouth, then closed it, understandably befuddled. It’d been a while since he’d been around the enigmatic engineer. It seems he’ll have to be desensitised all over again into keeping up with him. He opened his mouth, but Tony once again beat him to speaking, continuing, “that’s it, isn’t it? That’s right up your alley, Bruce. Reasonably secluded, meditation, animals, peace and quiet, somewhere to go through your Ultron kill count, the sounds of the ocean hitting against the shore… that actually sounds pretty good. Haven’t been there for a while. Hey, maybe I’ll take Pepper there for our honeymoon, what’cha think?”

Exasperated, his patience thinning with his mounting exhaustion becoming clearer the more he’s still standing and listening to him babble, Bruce allows a terse but still slightly warm, “Tony,” in warning.

Tony allows it, too. “Could’ve at least sent a post card, ‘s all I’m saying.”

“Where is everyone?” Bruce asked conversationally, changing the subject, finally noting the too still silence, the emptiness of the tower, especially for an evening, the end of a work day mid-week in Avengers tower.

Tony doesn’t respond then. Cheeky grin falling and fading fast whilst his eyes set hard. Warm brown now a dark charcoal. That sinking feeling returned to Bruce’s stomach, with full force. _Oh God, what?_ Was it something he said? Quieting the deep stirrings in the green fuzzy fog of his mind, where the Hulk is sleeping right now, but growling and starting to awaken, he squeezed the fabric wrapped around his palm, more of a comfort to him currently than a shield from whatever was coming out of the door he’d unknowingly opened.

 _Shield._ Cap. The guys... The _Avengers_. The last time he’d seen them all had been in Sokovia, before he’d unwillingly hulked out. He knew a lot of time had passed and Thor had filled him in on a few things and how things had gone generally since then, but by the looks of things here right now, and going by Tony’s expression…

Brown eyes met brown, “Tony? Where’s Steve?”

Tony’s gaze dropped from Bruce’s at the mention of the good captain’s name, his expression that of a wounded man caught in the whims of a bad memory, and not one in which he’d entirely like to share, by the looks of it. Bruce’s gut churned, his heart beating a little faster now, confusion masking his expression. _What—the—?_

“Tony,” Bruce pushed on, slightly alarmed, not liking the silence he was met with.

The billionaire sniffed, nose twitching, jaw set, eyes angry and the corner of his lips drawn in the hint of a sad snarl. “I don’t know,” he said simply, tone flat, his eyes lifting to look directly at Bruce, no remorse and a hint of obstinacy. Bruce flinched a little at the intensity. He knew at times the engineer and the super soldier didn’t get on. But he’d been there to witness first hand them getting on famously in times of need and when it really mattered. Tony is and always has been a team player in that respect. And respected the captain for being the same. Whatever happened here must’ve been big for them to fall out.

“You don’t know?” he parroted back, full of concern, no less muddled.

“Dropped off the radar a while back. Hasn’t come back on it since. Not sure what’d happen if he did,” rubbing his fingers along the side of his styled beard, Tony blinked in reminiscence. Then, shrugging off the angst filled aura around him seemingly with little effort, his tone eased when he supposed, “could be kicking it back with Point Break, arm wrestling over combat pointers on our thunder buddies’ homeland for all I know,”

Bruce’s anxiety lessened at Tony’s joking, returning a small smile of his own. Though by no means was he relaxed why what little his friend had told him. But he knew better than to push Tony Stark into doing or saying something he didn’t want to. Nor would he want to. Tony had been nothing but always kind to him. So, he relented for now, promising himself to return to the subject sometime later and decided to instead to indulge the other genius in his humour, his jab at their alien friend, slyly replying, with a quiet confidence which didn’t go unnoticed. “He’s not there. Not with Thor, either,”

Tony’s eyes widened a fraction, teeth on view as the implication of Bruce’s words sunk in and hit home, an ear-splitting grin grew quickly across the engineer’s face. He hopped back into his seat excitedly, that Stark charismatic energy returning as he patted the seat beside him in invitation to the scientist. “Is it story time already? This oughta be good. Do we have any popcorn? We should totally have popcorn for this,” Bruce took a seat beside him, wrapping the throw around him once more when it fell past his shoulders, revealing his bare, dusty cold torso and tried to get comfortable.

“Oooh, actually, hold that thought,” Tony distracted himself with his watch, checking the time and then fiddling with a dial and some buttons on the side. Bruce watched, must be something Stark had made, he’s never seen anyone wear a watch quite like that before. But then again, he’d never been good with makes and brands. It’s not exactly like he’s rolling in money or ever has been.

“Hey Friday, can we get some food sent up?”

“I’ll get someone right on it, boss,” came the female voice of Tony’s artificial PA.

“Pizza good with you?” he asked, glancing expectantly at Bruce, noting he jumped slightly when the voice spoke. The tired man simply shrugged, a hint of a nod, a small weary smile of thanks.

“An all veggie and a meat feast, please Fri.”

“Anything else I can do for you or Doctor Banner, boss?” Friday asked, her Irish accent thick but kind.

Bruce shook his head and Tony smiled, “make ‘em both a large, thanks. Lemme know when they’re here.”

Bruce sat back and sank into the cushions. He was glad to see that despite the long-time apart, it didn’t seem to change things where his friendships lay. He was welcome here, still. Despite all they’d all been through and the fact he’d been absent, he was still welcome somewhere, could call somewhere home.

His mind drifted to the other Avengers once more. He’d asked about Steve and that didn’t go well, but what about the others? “Where’s Clint, ‘Tasha, Vision?” He questioned, moving his head from side to side slowly, searching around the large room, as if doing so he’d be able to locate his teammates, his only friends, hanging about the tower like in his distant fond memories. Another time, before Ultron, before whatever messed up things happened here clearly took place in his absence.

“Nuh-uh. This is where you tell me where you’ve been for two years, remember? Two, _long, suffering_ sad years without my science bro to get me through the gloomy, melancholy boring and dismal days. You owe me, Bruce. Don’t think I won’t be cashing in. I’m thinking less of the bio-organics field this time and venturing more into the electromagnet and much more into the super clean energy fields.” He raised his eyebrows in quick succession suggestively, arms folding across his chest neatly.

“That’s more your field than mine,” Bruce replied, annoyance sinking deep within him at yet another deviation from topic. “Why do you keep changing the subject? What aren’t you telling me?”

His heart clenched when he witnessed the walls close in his friend’s eyes and the defence go up once more. “Tony,” he sighed, brow furrowing, “c’mon, you can tell me. It can’t be that bad. You know I’ll find out eventually.”

Tony inhaled on a shaky breath, meeting his friends’ warm concerned eyes briefly before standing abruptly. He clapped his hands in front of himself, straightening his tie and rounding on Bruce, all but the epitome of happiness, all wide toothy smiles and eyes crinkling. “You probably want something to wear, right? I’m sure I’ve got some things that’d fit you. How long you in town Big Guy, I’ll give you a wardrobe? What are you again, a medium?”

Banner frowned, not liking another diversion, another avoidance tactic from the previous weapons specialist. As Tony passed by him, looking as though he was headed towards the open doors of the communal area that would hopefully lead him to, preferably some warm clothes, Bruce didn’t want to risk losing Tony _now_. Not whilst he had him, this thread. He panicked, blurted, “I was the other guy for two years,” and watched, slightly embarrassed, as Stark spun about face, looking at him with certain interest and, is that, yes, an impressed sort of— _pride_?

“Lordy, now you _do_ have my attention, Banner,” he stepped toward him, almost prey like in his advancing. “Do tell,” smirk growing, shit eating grin becoming apparent once again, “oh, please-please- _please_ tell me you’re finally strutting.”

Bruce groaned internally, this’ll be a long story and a long night. And he’ll be damn well making sure he gets one hell of a story in return. He had a bad feeling that Tony’s secret story was bigger and badder than his. And whatever repercussions are in place are never good when Tony’s involved.

After all, two years really is a long time to be away from home when you’re an Avenger.


	2. What Time Is It, Again?

As Bruce opened his mouth to begin what would most likely be a largely disbelieved telling of a story, possibly the most ludicrous thing Tony has ever and would ever hear, and that’s saying something, he only hesitated when the sharp shrill of some sort of rock song Bruce didn’t recognise filled the air, seeming like it emitted from the nearby bar behind them. He closed his mouth, pausing awkwardly and expectantly at Stark.

But Tony didn’t waver, didn’t move, his dark eyes not faltering once, still glued to his friend like he was the most interesting thing in the room, his tie hanging loosely against his suit. Bruce wondered if the man could even hear the ringing.

“Boss,” the overhead Irish accent of Tony’s online interface spoke, “You seem to be receiving an incoming call,”

He still didn’t move, save for the exasperated roll of his eyes and fatigued sigh. “Yeah, gathered that, Fri,”

The heavy baseline and incessant drumming of the ringtone stopped, leaving an eerie quiet around them. “I have Mr. Hogan on hold; would you like me to tell him to call back?”

Bruce jumped in with his thoughts on the matter, guilt crashing over him in rolls of waves and starting to consume him, desperately not wanting to be any kind of burden or hindrance to his friends evening, despite having already unintentionally become one.

“You can take it if you want to, you should.” He pressed, timidly, hands twisting into the throw wrapped around his worn-out body.

Tony’s brow furrowed, beginning to shake his head in retort to his pal’s seeming self-detestation. “He’ll call back.” He stated simply, then sat back against the cushions behind him, grin growing across his features like a Cheshire cat who’d just caught a mouse.

“So, where were we? You were telling me about your Bahama beach retreat with our Shakespearean thunder God?” 

Bruce grinned at the man’s chosen terminology and relaxed a slight fraction. Tony Stark somehow had a way of making it very easy to talk to him, even when you may not want to, or you don’t feel much like doing so. Something the physicist was very grateful and appreciative for.

The phone on the bar’s counter began to ring again, the same heavy rock song perforating the room and air around them.

This time Tony did react. He tipped his head back against the head rest, closed his eyes in irritation. “Can’t a man get any peace? For five minutes?” he pondered with a sarcastic manner, body sunk in an exhausted slump against the couch.

“Friday, do me a favour,” he started, business attitude and alert, opening his eyes and speaking loudly enough so as to be heard over his blaringly loud rock and roll ringtone. “Go ahead and just put my cell on do not disturb. Or airplane mode, whichever suits.”

Friday waited a beat before ending the call dutifully. Her accent softened slightly when she spoke next, recalling and reminding her superior softly, “it is a semi-long flight upstate, boss, your jet is now waiting outside on the landing strip when you’re ready to board.”

Stark blinked at Friday’s subtle relay of Happy’s message.

“Upstate?” Bruce repeated in question, a mixture of anxious surprise and concern distributing itself across in his body language, eyes quickly returning to the glass walls behind him, the broken and shattered glass on the floor in the corner where the Hulk had got in. He couldn’t see a jet, the landing zone just out of his visions reach, behind the wall and obviously on the other side of the rooftop. He didn’t hear anything approach, either. Must be quite the stealthy aircraft. And with it being Tony’s plane, he didn’t doubt it for a second.

Tony merely rolled his head against the fabric behind him he was laying against to glance at the smaller man, lips pursing in an idea when his eyes met his again. “You got anywhere to be?” he asked him almost rhetorically for the sake of politeness, knowing Bruce likely didn’t and most probably had nowhere to go either.

Well, that wasn’t technically true, not anymore. Tony sneered.

“Me?” Bruce stammered, baffled and more than a little jumbled. “I… Uh, no… But Tony…”

“Great, you can come with, keep me company. We can’t really stay here, big guy. As much as I know you like it here – and you so do, don’t even try and deny it, why else would you come back? – I don’t exactly own this place anymore. Just sold it. And apart from these lovely couches here and the bar over there, the place is pretty much empty, so nowhere to crash for the night.”

Banner made a move to follow Tony in standing. He had so many questions whirling around in his head that he wanted to ask the man. A chill hit him when he stood, and he shivered, beginning to tremble, gaining Stark’s undivided attention as he took in the creased throw that covered his modesty.

“Right, clothes.” He clicked his fingers, feet carrying him and leading him to the open doors of the communal area. “Hold on, don’t go anywhere, tiny timid Tim,” and with a final cheeky smirk, Tony was gone, heading through the tower, leaving the timorous man standing on his own.

Bruce took a steadying breath and looked around. The room was quite dark now, the city lights behind them causing an almost artificial glow around him through the floor.

With his arms still wrapped around himself and the thin blanket covering his chilled skin, he walked over to the bar.

He didn’t know what day it was, what year, what time, although he did have a rough idea after doing the math in his head. But then, time worked a little differently on Sakaar, you could never know for certain unless you check, the scientist in him reasoned. He could ask Friday, of course, but he wouldn’t get the security he felt he now needed unless he saw it with his own eyes.

Not being certain where and what time you were in gave him no sense of reality, as silly as it may seem… so with a shaky snuffle and knowing his friend wouldn’t mind, he picked up the expensive and smart Stark phone. And only frowning at the transparency of the device when he turned it over in his palm. How the hell did this thing work? How did Tony even make this?

He lifted it up and he pressed a finger to the see-through screen experimentally, watching as it lit up immediately in a blue cacophony of blurred graphics, holographic scans jumping out of it and skimming his face.

The device must’ve been happy with the results of its scan as it flashed green and the homepage fell open to reveal apps and files stored with Tony’s data. Bruce squinted at the screen, mentally reminding himself to grab some eye glasses at his next opportunity.

He bit his lip, then dragged his thumb onto the app labelled calendar, impatient to discover the information that he wanted.

His eyes browsed over the reminders and appointments set by Stark for this month in a flurry, not reading them and focussed instead on the bold lettering centred around a large circle labelled and categorised, ‘TODAY’. Brushing his thumb over it, he discovered that today was the evening of November eleventh and it was vastly approaching seven o’clock.

The Doctor nodded to himself and put the one of a kind device back down to the counter.

He watched the landscape of the skyline out of the windows, the flickering illuminating lights of New York City and thought back to Thor. He couldn’t help but wonder where he was, if he was ok. If they succeeded in beating Hela and saved Asgard or not. The more he thought about where he himself was and how he got here, the more he could feel the stirrings of a headache approaching.

How did he get from Asgard to Earth? And where was Thor? Why wasn’t he with him?

A bad feeling settled in the depths of his stomach at the possible implications of why he was alone and how things had potentially gone in battle and then afterwards. And he wished, not for the first time, that he could remember details and more than scattered fragments of his time in Hulks body.

But even now, trying very hard to force a few memories, he was only getting strong past feelings of rage and the overwhelming urge to smash a few monsters and aliens in his way. Bruce groaned and rubbed at his temple calmingly.

“Pizza’s here!” Came Tony’s jovial voice from the entrance to the room.

Turning to face him, Bruce noted with comfort that the man had changed his own attire in his absence, gone was the expensive Armani navy suit and in place instead, he was now adorning a Black Sabbath rock t-shirt and dark jeans, carrying two large pizza boxes atop one upturned palm and some clothes in the other as he steadily made his way over to him.

“Found these amongst some of your stuff packed from your room.” Tony remarked, handing Bruce a baggy sweatshirt, some boxers and a pair of sweatpants. “Go ahead and change, I’ll wait up outside,” he informed his friend, walking past him to the bar to grab his possessions, pocketing everything except the other company business cards. “Better hurry, Banner, before the pizza gets cold!” he smirked in jest, making his way with confidence to the viewing point on the other side of the room and sliding the door open, stepping over the threshold and rounding a corner, away from view.

Bruce hurried to change after sniffing the air and finding his mouth watering in strong appetite. Man, was he starving. Always was after a Hulk out, but he felt this time he hadn’t eaten for years. Unceremoniously dropping the fluffy throw and pulling the underwear and sweatpants up past his hips, he shimmied into them and grabbed the sweatshirt, proceeding to swiftly make his way to follow Stark outside.

With a passing glance of remorse at the mess he’d made in Tony’s tower, sold or not, he still considered it his, he too opened the glass door and stepped through to the outside, strong air hitting him with a powerful gust of wind. He walked rapidly around the corner, shoulders tensed against the cold and stopped abruptly when he came face to face with a pretty brunette young lady in a tight flight attendants uniform, the private Stark Industries jet behind her, stairs leading up to the open door, awaiting him.

Her smile was large and unwavering as she gestured to the aircraft behind her. “If you’d like to follow me, Doctor Banner, I’ll take you to Mr. Stark.”

Bruce followed dutifully and climbed the steps and aboard the jet, taking in the broad space, the luxury lavish pale seating and carpets, flooded with warmth. He located the engineer, seat reclined, pizza box open in front of him, meat and cheese filled slice in hand and a single-malt scotch on the rocks already being served to him by another member of cabin crew. With an amused shake of his head, he couldn’t stop the grin growing onto his face or the rolling of his eyes if he tried.

“You always have to add a touch of dramatics to everything,” he reported as he took a seat opposite him, referring to the flight attendant that greeted him needlessly and unnecessarily.

Tony glanced up at him through his sunglasses, humour evident on his face and not even trying to hide it. “Or lasers.” He pointed out around a mouthful of food. “You got me, so sue me,” he laughed, “you know I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t so fun to mess with,” he teased, nudging Bruce’s own pizza box toward him across the table.

When asked if he wanted a drink, Bruce opted for water. And after being handed a tall glass and when they were finally airborne, Tony looked at him expectantly. “No more interruptions, side tracks or distractions of any sort. Spill, I’m all ears, big guy.”

So he delved into what he was sure Stark was waiting to hear and had been for the past hour.

Tony was surprisingly quiet as he listened to Bruce’s story, his recalling of events that he knew and could remember, anyway. He told of what had happened before he was forced to hulk out in Sokovia and Tony filled in what he could after they’d won the battle, what Tony said fitting in with Thor’s telling of accounts.

He told of the time he finally woke up as Banner, two years later in the Quinjet, his almost freak out at discovering he was on an alien planet and had been for two years, how the people of Sakaar seemed to worship the hulk (sharp laugh and a shoulder nudge from Tony at that), reacquainting himself with Loki, “oh? how is reindeer games these days?” Then of what he could remember in small snippets of green blurry flashbacks of the other guy.

Of arenas and a sibling like friendship with a female warrior, but no faces, no sound. Thinking back, he now suspected that his alter egos warrior friend must be none other than the Valkyrie woman that had helped them escape from the foreign planet.

Bruce told his friend how he was anxious to let the Hulk back out because he was afraid he’d never be himself again, watching Tony’s face go serious and pained at that.

He told him sadly how Thor had pleaded with him to help him bring down his sister and how Bruce had eventually decided in an alien spaceship to bite the metaphorical bullet, the only conclusion the physicist could arrive to at the time when the large beast he’d just mentioned wasn’t slowing down and seemed impervious to bullets.

He told Tony that the thing would have attacked and killed the people of Asgard. Thor’s people. And even with the seven PhDs he had up his sleeve, none of them could’ve helped them in that moment. Only one something could. One someone.

With imploring eyes, he looked to his friend and strained, “I just couldn’t let that happen, Tony. Not when I _knew_ I could stop that from happening even if it meant that I... Even if it meant I could lose everything.”

Tony nodded, face impassive, lips pursing. He opened his mouth, raised his brow, head shaking slightly and seemingly for once in his life thinking at a loss of what to say.

Bruce dropped his eyes. “So, I jumped outta the ship, landed on the bridge... and the other guy took the reins. Next thing I know, I’m lying on the floor of the tower.”

Silence.

Bruce chanced a look up at his friend, Stark looked like he was now lost in thought, forehead screwed up and frozen in contemplation.

Bruce waited, cheeks tinged in a blush of embarrassment, sure he’d not be able to answer any questions the engineer was bound to have and ask him, given his memory lapses.

And hey, most things like all the little details, all of which Tony Stark lived for, were still a haze of muddled fragments to him. It’s not like he could if he tried.

“So, what I’m hearing is…” Tony finally begins, finding his voice as his eyes relocate to the window, hiding his growing grin, “Thor has a sister?”

Bruce blinked, dumbfounded. “That’s your question?” He asked, voice raising a pitch higher, “I tell you everything, where I’ve been – _two_ foreign alien worlds, by the way – what I’ve done, what Thor’s had to do, Loki... what _we've_ done together, and that’s what you come back at me with?”

Entirely ignoring what Banner just now said, the engineer spins on his seat, “You gotta level with me here, Bruce,” Tony beseeched seriously, turning his head to face him with scrutinising eyes, lifting his sunglasses and smile coy, “is she hot?”

“Why? Pepper up for grabs, then?” Bruce witted back quickly, mock seriousness, head tilted bashfully in retaliation, brows raising in challenge.

Tony immediately frowned as Bruce’s smile only grew, his nose scrunching upwards, unimpressed scowl spreading across his features.

Bruce smirked, about to let Tony know he was joking, sure he knew that anyway.

It seemed he did, as he threw his thin folder of paper files at him that was left on the table before they arrived, with fevered reverence, “low blow, Banner,”

Bruce lifted an arm to block his face, laughing a little behind it, catching the files with his other hand. In his attempt to shield himself, he knocked over the tall glass of water beside him, instantly feeling the cool liquid penetrate through the bottom of his shirt and top of his sweats.

Tony’s eyes lit up in mirth, grin in place, watching the physicists face fall and a sad look cross it adorably. 

“Hey no, you deserve that, that’s what you get.” The billionaire laughed.

Bruce’s sad look turned into a petulant pout and Tony was reminded with a sad twinge just how young the man looked in that moment.

“So, what was it like?” He asked in distraction and genuinely curious.

Bruce gave him a questioning glance, hands going to the damp material of his clothes. Tony elaborated with an impatient, flippant wave. “The place big, tall and mighty’s from? What's it called again?”

“Where? Asgard?”

“That’s the one. All it’s cracked up to be?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bruce nodded fondly, hands now finding the arm rests and squeezing in effort to remember. “I mean, I didn’t see it at its best, it was sort of on fire,” he commented quietly, “but still, yeah, beautiful place,”

The scientist looked across at the man in front of him, smiled, “have to say though, despite however I got here and at whatever the cost, I’m actually happy to be back on earth, back in New York, even.”

The other genius paused, fingers that were drumming along his own arm rest freezing. “Ok, who are you and what have you done with Banner?” Tony joked, one hand reaching out to point at Bruce. He quickly glanced out of the window in alarm at the rolling skies and clouds beneath them. “Quick, you see any pigs flying?”

“Shut up, Tony,” Bruce rolled his eyes, cheeks etched with humour.

“You’re right, better not joke. It could happen any day with the rate weird things are happening around here these days,”

Banner agreed with a reflective slight nod. They were living in crazy times. Anything could happen now and he’d struggle to be incredibly surprised anymore. Maybe shocked, but not so much surprised.

He shifted to get comfortable against the damp clothing, wincing when it seemed it was to be impossible. “Hey Tony, I hate to ask given I’ve just changed and I’ve already put you out once already, but do you by any chance have—“

“Don’t even start with that. You’re _not_. And yeah, second drawer down on the left by the cockpit,” He assured, guessing at once it was clothes Bruce was asking for. “Only casual gear though, buddy. Do all my business on my other jets, if you get what I mean,” he smirked.

Bruce blanched at that, images of him and Pepper he didn’t want to have staining his brain. Getting to his feet, he dropped the files Tony threw at him into his vacant seat. “I think I always know what you mean,” he replied with a flat monotone, “that’s the problem.”

Stark winked at him, shouted to Bruce’s back a quick “science bros, two brains but one mind!” then seemed to busy himself with some holographic screens full of stock market data and news sources he seemed to pull out of his watch and screen of his cell phone, fingers fiddling and flying over them with speed of a concert pianists.

Bruce walked over the cockpit, opened the second draw dawn to the left as instructed and came face to face with a few rock t-shirts and a few pair of dark jeans, underwear and socks in the corners. 

He grabbed the first of each he could find, knowing from experience his friends’ clothes would fit him and turned to open the bathroom door, stepping inside it to change. 

He stepped out minutes later, dark Metallica shirt hugging his chest and black jeans clinging tightly to his legs. He pulled at them to get better adjusted. _Always wears such tight pants!_ “Can’t escape them, no matter where in time or space.” He muttered to himself uncomfortably.

“What’s that, big guy?” Tony questioned loudly so as to be heard, not looking away once from his screens, face obscured in concentration on what looked to be finished designs of some sort of suit with a large spider on its centre.

Bruce smiled childishly when he took in Tony’s own wardrobe again, finding it very humorous that he too was wearing similar clothes, _his_ clothes. Once again. But now back on Earth, in front of him.

“I’m you.” He stated, arms eagled outwards and gesturing excitedly, looking down at himself then back to his friend. He didn’t know why he found it so amusing, he’d borrowed Tony’s clothes in the past.

“You’re what now?” Tony asked, tearing his eyes finally away from the screens to look through them at Bruce.

The physicist laughed freely, putting on a voice, presumably his imitation of the philanthropists when he quirked, “I’m Tony Stark.” He sauntered over to his seat, nodded reluctantly, admittedly, grin still wide. “Again.”

Amused and slightly confused, Tony pushed the screens away with the flick of his wrist, them minimising and shrinking back down to where they’d come from.

“You ok?” He asked, eyes squinting a little in his questioning as he watched his friend retake his seat opposite him. “How long were you in there? How long was I working on those screens?” He quipped, confused by Bruce’s sudden change in behaviour, and...

“Sorry to break it to ya, pal. But I’ve always been me, you’ve always been you. Sad as that may seem and all. Because I just don’t think you couldn’t handle being all this good stuff,” Tony waved a hand lazily down at himself for emphasis. “I fear the fame would be too much pressure for little old Brucey. Let alone the parties and business side of things you’d be obligated to go to. Not easy I’ll have ya know. And with your track record of no-shows and knowing you don’t like public overcrowded places and what can happen when you’re...” he trailed off, “what?”

He stopped, noting with a small twitch of a frown that Bruce was distracted and still smiling too brightly for what he was used to, despite both his own rambling and playfulness.

Banner only shrugged, a kind of vulnerability coming off of him that made Tony’s senses jump to alert and protective, then replied, “yeah. I’ll give you all that. But on the other hand, you’re Iron Man, which is pretty cool, so...”

Tony shook his head, none the wiser. Clint, sure, he could play verbal tennis with and they often racketed a good rally, to the annoyance of their comrades. Even Steve and Thor, on occasion could be fun to give and take some joking around. And when you found the Widow in the right mood, even she could give as good as she gets.

But he and Bruce just didn’t seem to have that kind of relationship. Not to that level in that way, anyway. They’d quip a few silly science riddles or puns. But never outright joking such as this. And what’s with the sheer defenceless feel Tony was getting?

Tony’s head made a move to tilt the left a fraction, analysing his companion for any physical abnormalities.

“Seriously, you feelin’ alright? You’re acting... I dunno, a little different.” He smirked then, “you got booze in that bathroom you’re hiding from the party, Banner?”

Bruce’s face immediately fell at the observed statement, insecurities hitting his every nerve, as if suddenly becoming aware he was acting a bit odd, not like he was supposed to. His mind jumped back to only days before, when Thor had pointed out the same thing.

And the fact he’d lost part of his humanity all over again like last time started to sink in, he took a shaking breath, his heart rate quickening beat by beat.

“Hey, hey,” Tony sat forward, all pretence and evidence of joyful banter wiped from his face and posture as he gripped both of Bruce’s shoulders in his warm grip, back straight.

“Come back to me big guy.” Tony was saying, voice low and soothing, thumbs rubbing comfortingly into his collarbones. He shook his head at the young stewardess that took a step towards them in eager attempt to help the best she could, only to stop and Tony’s warning.

Bruce closed his eyes, turned his head to the window, taking calming breaths. When he opened them, he saw in his wavering reflection that radioactive bright green was starting to fade from his big brown irises, green also start to recede from the tanned skin of his forehead and neck. 

“That’s it, Bruce, it’s ok, nothing to smash, here. Well, other than my plane which, on any other given occasion and if no one else were on it I’d say feel free to go to town,” the billionaire mused, tone still low, still rubbing soothing patterns into the scientist’s shoulders, “but something tells me this isn’t about that or wanting to smash anything,”

Bruce cracked a shy smile, finally feeling a semblance of control over himself. He nodded at Stark, who, with a pat on one of his shoulders, sat back but never took his eyes off him.

“Sorry.”

Tony waited.

“I uh, I haven’t been _me_ for a while.” Bruce shared, “obviously...” he rubbed the back of his neck, choosing his next words, thankful Tony remained uncharacteristically quiet.

“It’s like... it’s like I can’t always control what I’m feeling. Not just the anger; I’m always angry,” he dismissed, “but I mean other emotions, too. It’s...” he sighed, running his hands through his greying hair, at a complete loss. “...it freaks me out, the other guy having more control than me after this long.”

“Likely remaining waves of Hulk-emotions, got it,” Tony spoke confidentially, eyes softening with their intensity. “That’s to be expected, Bruce, after that long of letting him out to play. No big deal.”

Bruce shook his head, putting his chin in his palms, elbows on his knees. “It is to me. I thought I was finally getting a handle on things. In fact, I think I got it to a place where we both shared one hand on the handle. But now it’s like he’s got both hands on it and I’m sat in the back seat, riding out the earthquakes.” Bruce expressed, deep troubled frown making its way onto his face.

“And are left to face the aftershocks,” Tony nodded, understanding dawning on him. 

“Pretty much.” He covered his face, scrubbing it tiredly.

“Look, Banner... hey, look at me,” Tony nudged him gently with his sneaker covered foot until he dropped his hands and looked back at him, appearance suitably ruffled.

“You’re not dealing with simple teenage hormones here,” he started, “and lemme tell you, I’ve come to learn that sometimes even they’re not simple to handle,”

Bruce smiled at that. He could say that again.

“Times that by ten, then magnify that by a hundred and then maybe, just maybe, you’ll be on the same level playing field here.”

The man leaned forward a little, pausing to think through what he was about to say. Bruce seemed to hang on to every word, needing to hear this.

“I think it’s great he’s had all this playtime. You’ve never let him out longer than a full day, right? That you know of?”

Bruce shook his head, not sure where Tony was going with this.

“There ya go. Maybe he was finding his own footing, got to smash a few bad guys in his self-discovery,”

Brice scoffed a derisive laugh.

“So what if the big guy enjoyed living it large for a few years? Of course it’ll take a little time to shrug that off and get it out of your system. You’re the same guy, Banner. Just that part of you is a little meaner and greener.” He smiled, deja vu by hitting him like a freight train when he went on to say, “You need to occasionally let off a little steam or I’m tellin’ ya, it’ll drive you, and him, _definitely_ him, insane. And Bruce? Seriously, that. Is. Ok. Maybe now this has happened, that little fact I keep screaming at ya will get through that thick skull of yours.”

Banner nodded, he still wasn’t convinced, eight years later from when the first time on that helicarrier Tony had told him this and every time since. But he was marginally closer to agreeing, a small smile growing fully to a large one.

“Thanks, Tony.” And earnestly he meant it, the man historically always seemed to have time for him, no matter how busy, how preoccupied, always seemed to know what to say, what to do to make him feel better.

Tony didn’t reply, Bruce didn’t expect him to, but with a glance out of the window he saw they were dropping in altitude. “Ah,” Tony smirked, hands now rubbing together, “you’ve seen this place, right?” He questioned, “I’m not sure you’ve been here, actually.”

“Where?” Bruce slowly sat up straight, curiosity peaked, now also glancing out of the window.

Large acre by acre of green fields greeted his view below them. A large lit up white building surrounded by several other buildings scattered and lay around it. The large letter A in each corner of the buildings.

“Is that...?” Bruce turned to his friend, eyes squinting in excitement but not quite daring into believing.

“New Avengers facility? It is indeed.” Tony beamed, pride riding off him in short but cocky bursts.

They were steadily going down now, the large landing zone beneath them open and clear in the night.

Tony stood up, reached for his files and both boxes of half eaten pizza, downed the remainder of his drink and cocked his head to the door in reference as he headed toward it, turning around to beam at his old friend, walking backwards the rest of the few steps to his destination.

“Want the grand tour by yours truly? Got some newly installed R&D labs that I think you’ll _love_.”

As if he’d need telling twice. Bruce took his to his feet immediately, face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning.


	3. Let's Get To It

Stepping foot off the private jet, amongst the newly lit up pristine large building, Bruce Banner followed Tony Stark past the landing strip and towards the entrance.

He chanced a glance upwards towards the dark but brightly lit sky. Clusters of stars making up galaxies and far away lands shone above them as clear and magnificent as ever.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Tony spoke, catching his friends awe and wonder. “Can actually see what’s up there in Space from out here, better view than any city could offer for stargazing.”

Bruce nodded and smiled in agreement. Truer words hadn’t been spoken. He tipped his head back once more to observe the wonders overhead. He could never look at the sky at night the same way again, knowing first hand now what was out there.

They made their way inside, Tony holding the door open for Bruce before stepping over the threshold himself. People in uniform and some in plain clothes occupied the large space around them, milling around, some packing up to make their way back to the city, home, and some busy with whatever they were doing, faffing about with paper and electronics, passing by in a whirl.

A short stout woman with chestnut coloured hair and dark rimmed glasses made her way over to the pair, shoving past a few businessmen and very important looking people to get hastily to their side. She addressed only Tony, giving Bruce nothing more than a mere unfazed glance, not that he minded, of course.

“Some papers for you to sign, sir.”

“Absolutely,” Bruce heard Tony enthuse, the sheer sarcasm lost on the poor woman as they both immediately started towards the main reception area. “It’s what I live for.”

Bruce busied himself with looking around whilst his friend signed a few documents against the receptions vastly wide spreading desk. It was the end of a week day, after all. He watched and shrunk in on himself ever so slightly self-consciously as people past by them from seemingly ever direction, all greeting Mr. Stark as they did so. If Tony noticed Bruce’s instinctual move to hide behind him a little in attempt to disappear, he didn’t say so.

Noise flittered all around them, laughter and many busied and rushed voices in the midst of conversations.

Avoiding any eye contact, Bruce privately thought he preferred the tower. He couldn’t imagine staying here like he had in the old facilities building, despite this place having a more preferred secluded location in his mind.

His eyes strayed from the floor to the walls, gravitating to the great wall mounted television high in the far corner of the entrance room. The news was on. And on it, the skylines high rise scrapers of New York City. An acrobatic red and blue blur whizzed past the screen, swinging on what looked to be a white rope of some kind. Below it, a just near averted, sure to have been fatal car crash.

_Huh._

Bruce took a moment to absorb and engross this. He thought nothing had changed in the big apple since his parting and returning. But _that_ certainly was new. He couldn’t remember seeing or hearing of anyone who could do _that._

Surely his genius ally would have the answers. Scarcely nothing goes on in their city in which Iron Man doesn’t know about.

Bruce decided to test the waters.

“So, clearly some things have changed since I was last in town.”

“Hmm?” Tony humoured him, letting nothing show on his face, turning from the desk to glance at Bruce, then followed his gaze towards the overhead screen displaying the news.

A small smirk hit his lips. He went back to the last of the forms he’d been scribbling his signature on.

He stated factually, “That’s Spidey.”

“Spidey,” Bruce parroted.

“Because of the webbing,” Tony informed, tone bored like it was obvious, giving Banner a patient look usually reserved for the likes of Steve. “Gosh, you _have_ been gone a while, haven’t you.”

Bruce was entirely lost. He furrowed his brow and followed dutifully behind Tony as he led the way through a few corridors heading away from the entrance.

“I take it you know this Spidey?” Bruce enquired curiously. Someone swinging from ropes gymnastically in the sky? And in a busy city at that? His scientific brain needed answers, nosiness be damned.

“Spider-Man, officially,” Tony corrected, seeming beyond amused. “Well, if we’re gonna get technical, Peter. Good kid.”

The physicist halted in his steps. He shook his head, must be a term of phrase. But then again, that body flipping through the air on the news did look kinda small, thin even. But that didn’t mean anything, _he_ himself was fairly small. Well, at least in _this_ form.

But then again, this was Tony, after all.

“Kid?” He decided to repeat, clarify. Nice ‘kid’, not guy.

Tony spun about face, saw his friend was a few paces behind him and rolled his eyes theatrically. He waved him along, his sunglasses through his styled hair atop his dark-haired head. “C’mon Banner, keep up.”

Bruce made haste to pick up his strides. “Tony, when you say kid, what are we talking here? Nineteen? Twenty?”

Tony didn’t turn around, simply kept leading them to whatever destination they were headed to.

“Little lower,” he acknowledged.

Brows shooting into his own curly locks, Bruce felt his anxiety levels grow. Reaching the end of a hallway and two metal doors, Stark pressed the small button on the wall in front of them to call for the elevator.

“Seventeen? Eighteen?”

His eyes squinting with nerves, Tony shrugged his shoulders, straightened his faded tee, then repeated.

“Little lower.”

The elevator dinged, opening to reveal the empty cart. Stark stepped into it, turning and fixing the smaller man with a neutral expression, nodding his head in invitation when the doctor didn’t immediately follow.

As it was, Bruce did step inside the cart. But his patience had dropped, and fear ignited him. “You recruited a kid?” He began after the doors closed and they started climbing higher through the facility. “A literal child? Not even of consenting legal age for many things, to do what we do?”

Tony turned to face the rambling man, silently waiting for him to finish, watching as he appeared to make a startling discovery, gradually growing more frustrated.

“Please tell me he doesn’t do what we do. He’s not an Avenger, is he? God, Tony, he’s got to be what, fourteen?”

“Fifteen,” the engineer corrected ironically, non-perturbed about all of which had just been said and pointed out to him.

“Tony,” Bruce intoned, voice holding reprimand as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You know, you sound just like all the others,” Stark pondered inquisitively, not at all daunted or thrown.

The elevator dinged again, doors pealing back to reveal more corridors and hallways. This time adorning a more embellishing cosy feel, alluring and pleasing.

Bruce yet again followed the exasperating man. “You ever think there’s a reason for that?”

“He’s a good kid, Bruce,” Tony repeated, “keeps his head above water, most of the time, can handle himself.”

“What happens when he can’t?”

Tony beamed. “That’s what we’re here for.”

“It’s nice to see you haven’t changed.” Banner deadpanned.

Tony winked at him.

Despite his reserve, Bruce knew Tony well enough to trust his judgement. He knew without asking that he’d been the one to have made the kids suit. _Big demand, suit wise,_ he recalled from earlier. The spider infused suit he'd spotted in Tony's holographic projected graphs on the plane made sense now, too. He knew that Tony wouldn’t let this gifted young man out there on his own. And if the kid was going to continue doing what he’s doing regardless of what anyone says, then he may as well be as safe as he can be doing so. Which Bruce knew without doubt would be Tony’s driving force behind it all to begin with.

They came to a stop, forward-facing of a bulky door. Tony turned to face Bruce with an expression of that of a very smug and happy man.

The smaller man raised a brow in question.

“This,” Tony gestured to the door with a wave of hid hand, rolling on the balls of his feet eagerly. “Is _your_ room.”

This took Banner by complete surprise. His happy façade dropped, replaced with a shy humbleness only seen by close friends. His voice was silent and soft, sounding guilty. “You made me a room?”

Stark looked at him like he’d grown another head. “You’re kidding, right? Still an Avenger, aren’t you? Part of the Avengers, part of the team.”

Bruce’s face coloured, tinged pink.

“Plus, you’re also my friend, trust me when I say that’ll get you to high places.”

The billionaire knuckle-tapped the walls, listening to the resounding echo. “Triple steel enforced, vibranium lined, so’s the floor, by the way. It’s also something for the big guy to roam around in, let loose if you’re feeling a little more on the, shall we say, less mellow side. Can smash whatever he likes in there.”

Humorously, Bruce quirked his lips. “You made the Hulk a playroom?”

“Hey, I’ve met the guy, he could do worse. I figure we all owe him a little. And I want him, _you_ , to be totally and legitimately one hundred percent comfortable and happy here.”

Humbled beyond words, Bruce hesitated on what to say, his hands nervously finding the other and fiddling with his fingers. “Tony, this is...”

Taking pity on him and growing uncomfortable with the direction of the discussion, Stark changed tact. “So, I take it you’re staying then?”

He was met with only silence, the scientist still overcome with gratitude and emotion. He smiled kindly, lifted his hand to drop it on the slighter mans shoulder comfortingly.

“Anything missing or anything you want, don’t hesitate bud, lemme know.”

He turned to walk away and leave his friend to his new digs, but a small voice stopped him.

“What’s in there?”

Upon turning, Tony saw that Bruce was referring to the door opposite and to the left of his own.

“Bedroom,” Stark shrugged evasively.

“Who’s?” Bruce asked honestly and naively, not picking up on the evasive tone, too busy shyly wondering who his neighbour would be and if they knew and minded who'd be theirs.

Stark took his place back in front of Banner. He shoved his palms into his front pockets, fiddling with his keys and phone. “Was Barton’s.”

“Was?” Feeling more than a little left out of the picture, Bruce tiredly enquired, nervous at the possibility Clint didn't want to room next to him, “so, it’s not anymore? He’s moved?”

Silence.

Bruce stared across and slightly up and his friend, allowing an awkward beat to pass between them. Then it hit him. Hard, like a ton of bricks.

He carefully planned his next words. Tony hadn’t left yet, so there was no harm in asking. “Is this something to do with Steve?”

The only response he received for his line of questioning was a slight muscle twitch around the billionaire’s dark eyes.

Somewhat snapping, Bruce implored the man one last time. Even he had a limit. “Come on, just tell me what’s going on, Tony. I’m your friend, they’re my friends, too. I need to know. Why are you angry with them? What did they do, _you_ do? Where is everyone?”

Holding up a palm to cease his chatter and giving a slight nod, Stark sighed and relaxed his straight and alert posture. He allowed the pain to show on his face, and Bruce almost regretted asking again once he saw the hurt the man had been living with.

“Let’s go in your room.”

Banner shook away the settled pity, once again fired up. “No, I’ll see it later. I’m tired of this, Tony, just tell me—”

“For the love of God, I’m trying!” Tony raised his voice, frustration mounting steadily himself.

Bruce waited, staring the man down, disbelieving.

“But it’s not an easy conversation for either of us and as you know I’m not good at this stuff.” He took a breath, rubbed a weary hand over his indignant face and met his friends eye. "I’m sure as hell not telling you standing out here in the hall. So maybe we should step into your room, shut the door behind us and get started?"

Despite the seriousness of the discussion, Bruce couldn’t help but smile at the other genius’ choice of words. If they weren’t discussing what they were, Bruce would’ve guessed Tony meant to say what he'd said as a joke.

As it was, the man’s eyelids fell closed as he too heard what Bruce had, shaking his head and laughing a little at the absurdity.

It certainly broke the frosty ice that’d formed around them.

“There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say, but let’s go with it.”

At Banner’s nod, Tony reached forwards and grasped the doors handle. He turned it once and opened the door, flooding the room with light before he stepped inside and switching the light on.

Plain neutral colours met them, the floor, walls and ceilings, just as Tony knew Bruce would like it. With speckled purple and green objects here and there dotted around to accentuate the décor. Bruce smiled at the nice touch. Purple being his favourite colour and green, well, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what that was in reference to.

“Oddly enough, they actually compliment each other.” Banner breathed, taking in for the first time his new room, implying about the shades Stark had chosen for his ornamentation.

“I thought so.” Tony agreed.

Taking a seat upon his overly large new purple bed and bedspread, watching as the other man chose to do the same upon a desk chair to the right of him, Bruce waited for Tony to speak. About whatever he decided to speak about, he was too tired to argue this time if Stark decided to start talking about who he sold his tower to or any new research he was beginning to investigate.

But speak he did. He began to tell him all about after the events of Sokovia, a recap from earlier in the private jet that he’d got. Then proceeded to tell him all about the many political pressures that began to mount as repercussions and consequences to what had happened in the aftermath.

Bruce listened faithfully as Tony told him of the United Nation’s governmental plans to install some sort of a system and accountability after the actions over the last few years have led to much collateral damage globally.

He tells him of the Accords and how the new registration act deeply divided the team. That Captain America, Steve, followed by Clint, Sam (who he’d met at the party they’d thrown in the tower one time, Tony reminded him), Wanda and a few others Bruce hadn’t heard of or met, believe they should all remain free to defend humanity without government interference.

Tony explained and, when Bruce chirped in defensively that that sounded reasonable enough to him, sharply disagrees and supports oversight instead. Then explains that Natasha, Vision and Rhodey also agreed. Hence the civil war, of sorts, and consequently the arrest of their friends and disappearance of their captain.

“So,” Bruce starts after Tony finishes, confused and a little alarmed at what had transpired. “You guys had a rhetorical and literal fist fight over some legal papers? Just because Steve didn’t want to sign them?”

Tony all but nodded. It wasn’t the whole truth, there were some other reasons the two came to blows, but he wasn’t about to go into that today with Bruce. Not today, maybe not ever.

If he nodded too brusquely, Bruce didn’t pick up on it. He was too busy trying to comprehend what he was hearing to pick up on any added body language right now.

“So,” Bruce started again, face and expression turning from confused to pained. Tony inwardly gulped, he could guess what kind of question was coming next.

“What about me, Tony? If I were around, would you have made me sign it?”

“Luckily for the both of us, we didn’t have that problem,”

“And you’re telling me, out of everyone, it was _Ross’_ idea? Or at the very least, he has his hand in this?” Bruce went on, ignoring the man’s attempt to divert the subject with humour. The shackles were high with this information, temper controlled but in danger of slipping. Ross, of all people! He stared imploringly at the genius in front of him, at a loss for words.

But, really. _How could you be so stupid, Tony?_

“We need to be held accountable for all the losses, Banner.” Stark’s voice had dropped an octave, humour having left his voice and body almost in an instant, replaced with an indignant and arrogant attitude, contemptuous. “We need restrictions, limits, boundaries.”

Bruce took note of the defensive behaviour and stance the man before him had adopted. Oops, maybe he’d accidently asked that last bit aloud.

“After all that’s happened… Sometimes we do more harm than good. Tell me, you of all people must agree with that, Bruce.”

Something snapped inside Banners self-discipline. He wasn’t lying on the plane when he’d said he’d been struggling to reign in all emotions.

“I’ve been telling you that from day one!” He barked in retort, astounded by the man’s poor recollection and choice of words.

He pulled at his t-shirt in distraction from losing his last nerve, borrowed from the brunette before him. “Back on that damn helicarrier years ago, remember? That it wasn’t a good idea to let me anywhere near cities or largely populated areas. No matter what was going on. I live with the guilt of those I’ve… those that were lost, every day.”

“That wasn’t a jab at you,” Tony responded immediately, feeling the need to hastily clarify, knowing how his friend thought and would no doubt be taking what he was saying.

“Every time on a mission or assignment the Hulk’s been present, we’ve needed him, and you know it,” Tony informed directly. “Just like you also know he’s done a damn good job when he’s needed, too.”

Bruce glanced away at that. Down at his shoes then quickly back to Tony when he began to speak again.

“I’m talking about the time we, _all_ of us, as a team and only sometimes, occasionally individually, screw up.”

Bruce sighed heavily, anger deflating. He shrugged, “and your answer to that is to, what?”

“Well, with the help from the government, to keep the population of all of America and other United Nations happy and content, we—”

“Sign ourselves over?” Bruce scoffed rhetorically, jumping in impulsively.

“What? God, no. Gees, Banner, would you lay off with that? No one is getting ‘signed over’, all it is, is a regis—”

“Ross would have a field day with me. You have no idea what he’d—” Bruce paused, let his eyes fall closed as he took a few calming breaths to slow his heart rate and mind. It wouldn’t do to jump to conclusions, he knew. But how else was Tony expecting him to react? He’d be running right back into the arms of those he’d spent so very long and hard running away from.

All of it, the pain and heartbreak, what he’d been through internationally in and getting to and sustaining himself in different and many countries, what he’d seen and where he’d worked, what he’d gone through with Betty, Harlem, the Avengers. All for nothing. To go back to where he’d started.

Once more, he wanted to stamp his feet and scream like a child, the inner frustration at the situation and what he’d come to learn building and twisting his emotions, mixing not kindly with that of the Hulks. Bruce struggled to think rationally, didn’t exactly know how to feel, anger, sadness, treachery and forms of irrational need to run, fighting for dominance.

And with those final dark and despairing thoughts, the doctor’s dark brown eyes opened, the lingering Hulk’s emotions blending with his own and causing his heart to clench painfully tight.

Tears prickled in the corner of his rapidly green infused brown swirling orbs as despair settled in his gut, having won over the other sentiments he was feeling.

Tony took a step towards him, face growing soft, concerned, guilt fraternising with a fair amount of his own pain distorting his features.

Bruce, feeling an odd sense of almost betrayal, took a hesitant step back, elaborated. “You’re one of the few people with influence who was keeping them off my back all this time. Tony, honestly, I know it’s hard for you to understand, but if Ross gets my signature and gets his way, he’ll throw me in a cage.”

“Not gonna happen. Ever.”

No hesitation, let or hindrance. The man sounded confident, if a little angry at that prospect, also. It filled Bruce with a little returning hope.

“It’s the first thing he’d do.” He reiterated. “Not because I’m a threat, or I’d broken a new law, like you locked the others up for. But because I’d be government property and he’d see fit to do whatever he likes to me.”

“Bruce,” Tony started, head shaking profusely as the smaller man kept talking.

“Hell, he already, _still_ , believes that,”

Tony stamped down the roaring anger and thundering surge of protectiveness he felt trifling to the tops of his very soul, reminding himself to stay calm and get through his explanation and most certainly what his friend needed to hear.

“Bruce, the Accords, fundamentally, its just a register. They know who we are, what we’re capable of, and then when, if the time or day comes, they tap out and need us to jump in to do our thing, then we do.”

“But they have the say so, have to authorise us, otherwise what, we get arrested?” Bruce finished for him, speculated, heart still beating a little faster than normal resting pace.

Tony’s face hardened, he didn’t reply.

Bruce sighed again, tried taking a calming long breath, hoping he wasn’t right about that one. “I get it, Tony, I do. It’s a good idea in principle. I agree that we need a few laws, playing God has never ended well for us before,”

Tony smiled a little in recognition to what he knew Bruce was alluding to. But even that, had its perks. He shrugged one shoulder haphazardly, jovially, tone light as he made his point. “I dunno, I think Vision would say otherwise.”

Bruce let a small derisive snort tumble from his throat, his big and searching eyes back to its original dark brown colour. That was true. But still, case in point, most assuredly and absolutely, he quietly confirmed. “Tony, you should know now from the offset. I’m not signing it.”

“I know,” Tony replied simply, confident in his posture and voice. “Never thought for a second you would. It doesn’t matter now, anyway.”

“Oh?” Bruce queried, curious.

“Yeah, not so much,” Tony shook his head. “You’ve been MIA for two years. And now you’re back, yeah, but I doubt you’ll be wanting to leap from the skies and jump straight back into battle?”

Bruce blanched, not liking that idea at all. If many of the Avengers were disbanded and not active anyway, he’d much more than likely take the opportunity to fade away, hide and maybe travel a bit more, once again help the less fortunate and take some well merited and deserved ‘me’ time.

“Didn’t think so,” Tony chimed in with a laugh, having read his friends features like a book. “So, the way I see it, not active, no problem.”

Bruce watched his friend warily. Could that be true? Was it that simple?

And as if reading his mind, once again, Tony recapped and echoed, “Bruce, I’m not handing you over to Ross.”

Slowly, strongly, words full of promise and sincerity, he carried on. “For starters, you’re a person, you _both_ are. Not a science experiment. It’s different with you. Completely different ball game.”

Bruce felt his heart clench, worry overriding his senses. “And what if, you know, something happens, and I become a… _big_ problem?”

Stark shrugged, nonplussed. “Told you before, you’ve got more control than you think, despite your seven-hundred-and-thirty-day gap year.” He smiled then added, teasing, “and the big guy isn’t all that mean, anyway.”

“So,” Bruce verbally tiptoed, settling finally, “I don’t actually have to sign the Accords?”

“There are grey areas,” Tony confirmed, head tilting slightly in thought, neither confirming or denying anything.

“And those are?” Bruce prodded when no added explanation was forthcoming.

“Age is one, you can’t be a minor.”

Bruce blinked at this information, a little baffled as to why the engineer was telling him this.

“If you’re not in the Avengers, technically, you don’t have to sign. But if you have enhanced abilities then they’d like you to, for their records or databases, something like that.”

“That’s a little hypocritical, Tony.” Bruce allowed, disapprovingly critically.

“Well, the Accords were founded primary after what happened in Sokovia, so it’s targeted majorly and mostly over us and for us,” Tony explained, “but obviously the UN are aware of the odd vigilante here and there, so they added that little tid bit to it.”

“It’s very invasive. I mean, the government, controlling us?”

“Not controlling, just mandating.”

“Same thing, Tony.”

Tony nodded in acquiescence, his compliance surprising Bruce. He was never, nor has he ever been, a man to play by another man’s rules. The doctor shook his head sadly, but also a little in wonder. 

Stark observed, quipped, “what now, sour pouch?”

But Bruce stumbled out of the daze, shaking his head, curly mop wavering from side to side. “Nothing,”

“Spit it out.” Tony deadpanned, now more curious than ever, prepared to keep at it.

Bruce relented, knowing as such. “It’s just. You.”

“Me, what?”

Bruce clarified, “just, can’t believe you went for that.”

Tony instantly rolled his eyes, promptly mumbled. “This again?” Then scoffed, “anyone would think I wanted this to happen. It wasn’t like that. I don’t like it either. It wasn’t my idea, you know.”

Banner shrugged, took a moment to find the right words, treaded carefully. “As good as, though. You’re the one enforcing it.”

He watched as the hurt in his friend’s eyes clouded over dark brown irises. He’d unintentionally hit a nerve there, he realised belatedly. He had first-hand, personal account foretold knowledge of Tony’s past and his accountability and guilt in similar fields of enforcement and suffering consequences of that.

He raced to finish explaining his jumbled and unjust thoughts. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I see your point. I get that you didn’t have much of a choice, or you’d _all_ get locked up.”

“We need to be held accountable,” was all the reaction he got.

“But for saving lives?” Bruce challenged, not unkindly.

“For taking and losing lives through fault of our own. By acting selfishly and doing whatever the damn we want without any thought to others and those affected by it.” Tony countered, voice a little hostile.

_Yep. Definitely struck an age-old nerve there, Banner, well done._

The doctor hesitated, iff-ing and arr-ing, but then concluded, to hell with it. If Stark wanted to play the blame game, then he may as well hand his chips over now because he’ll lose.

“Lock _me_ up, then.” Bruce stated, cold, eyes boring into the other mans, gesturing to himself with his hands. “‘Cause I bet I’m sure as hell more accountable than anyone on the team, in the _world_ , probably, for that one alone. And I’m still not signing.”

“Bruce.” Tony responded tiredly, rubbing his index and forefingers into his temples, massaging them.

“I get Steve’s point more. I’m not signing over my identity for the world to mock me every time I turn my head or walk down a side street. There’s no freedom in that. And isn’t that what we fight for?”

Tony waited. Bruce quietened down, cheeks tinging pick slightly where he recognised his outburst with a hint of embarrassment.

“You don’t have to sign anything if you’re not part of anything and aren’t _taking_ part in anything.”

Tony spoke these words very succinctly, too enunciated, pronounced every syllable clearly.

Bruce faltered, frowning ever so slightly, brain working a mile a minute to decipher why the man did so. Tony’s gaze didn’t waver, his eyes piercing in to Bruce’s with a sad but pleading intensity. Trying to get him to understand.

The scientist blinked when realisation struck. Tony was giving him an out. Not just implying he was inactive, but actually allowing him to make a break if he wanted to. He himself was obviously bound by the laws of the Accords. But he knew Bruce wasn’t and must know of the truths he’d have to suffer through if he joined and became part of it too, being the Hulk, and all.

“Oh,” was all Bruce could murmur, unintelligibly.

The other man allowed a brief smile, content he was understood. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” Tony lamented after a beat, shaking his mood into that of a happier version of himself, forcing the emotion and calming his nerves. It had been a long day.

“By the time it’s blown over, either they’ll be too many of us for them to—” he paused, smirked at Bruce, conceding with an allowed shrug, “— _control_ , then, or something big – and I’m talking apocalypse style disaster big – will go down and they won’t be able to handle it and won’t give a shit who we are or what we can do, so long as we can sort it and get the job done.” Tony finished stoically, voice a little numb and tense. “Because that’s what we do. And they need us. _All_ ,” Tony gestured with a distinctive nod towards Bruce, “of us.”

Bruce watched Tony and listened to him speak with a newly resound sadness and birth of grief for the man. Ironically, people told him that _he_ had a negative outlook on things and that _he_ was insufferably glum.

“Still think that day’s gonna come?”

“I know it,” the man quipped back with certainty.

Bruce bowed his head, thinking along the same lines. It was only a matter of time until that day. It was just incredibly sad to Bruce that his friend had been suffering with these thoughts alone for such a long time. Even before Tony’s idea, then their collective design of Ultron and a protective shield around the world, had Tony been thinking along these lines for many years prior?

“We’re our own worst enemy, Bruce.” Tony began, “we’re it, if another alien asshole doesn’t get there first. We’re the destruction. Even when we try and do good,” he turned to face him, took a step forward. “Never works, not really. Never pleases.”

“Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.” Banner agreed softly, wringing his hands together feebly.

“Exactly. So,” he shrugged, merrily if only a little helplessly. “We may as well give them what they want and let them come to realise that too. We gave it a good run, it’s not like we didn’t try. Just hope it won’t be too late by then and there’s something worth saving.” He muttered as an afterthought.

Sat in his own little despair, Bruce allowed the heavy cloud to hang over head him. He needed a pick-me-up. They both did.

He stood quite suddenly from his bed, starling the engineer a little from his own glum state, causing him to stare at him questioningly.

“Didn’t you say something earlier about showing me some labs?” He asked the man casually, watching as the broad grin spread onto the wealthy mans lips. “Is that offer still on the table?”

Tony too, jumped to his feet. His smug expression returned tenfold as he dropped an arm around his friend’s shoulder, leading him to and past the door and back into the hallway. “Oh, you’re gonna love it, Bruce. Don’t know why I didn’t show you it first.”

And with that, they headed more happily back the way they’d come, waiting for the arrival of the elevator to take them away to they R&D labs, where Tony would find that old habits die hard and lay in wait whilst endeavouring to drag his science bro back into the world and domain of engineering and knowledge.

Bruce privately thought that alien or their own destruction could wait and hold off a little longer. He could get used to this again, the feeling of being accepted and dare he think it, wanted.


End file.
